Arsenic & Old Lace
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Hormonal was SUCH a volatile word. TWOSHOT
1. Chapter 1

**Arsenic & Old Lace**

**Chapter One**

A man learned many things during the course of his life. Lessons that could only be achieved through hard experience. Any guy with testicles knew that. And David Rossi was no different.

One lesson he had managed to learn extremely well over the years, however, was when to listen to his gut. A man's gut would never lie to him. The gut was the first organ that could recognize the instinctive need for survival.

And as Dave reached the bottom step of the wooden deck surrounding his house, his gut wasn't just talking. Nope, it was screaming. At the top of it's intestines.

See, another thing he'd learned in his life was the value of a good omen. Listening to those portents of things to come had saved his ass on a number of occasions, and who was he to mess with a time-honored plan?

And the God awful sound coming from his kitchen…which he sure as hell wasn't going to classify as music…was a blaring neon sign of future demolition if ever there was one. And he knew what that heralded inside his home.

THAT was the symphony of a pissed off Jennifer Jareau Rossi.

After a year of marriage to the tempestuous beauty, he HAD learned a important few things, after all.

The most obvious of which was that when JJ blared Meridith Brooks' "Bitch" at the top of their formidable stereo's speakers, it meant only one thing.

He was fucked.

Cautiously taking a backward step as he warily eyed the door of their home, he took a mental walk through his day. He hadn't left his socks on the floor this morning. He'd recapped the toothpaste. It wasn't her birthday or their anniversary.

His bases were covered…right?

Automatically, he recognized that he was very definitely wrong. That was her man hating music. Or more specifically, her husband hating music.

He'd definitely done something. And she was obviously already planning his punishment.

Extracting his cell phone from his pocket, his eyes never wavered from the door as he dialed the phone, JJ's best friend's number permanently engraved in his mind. Penelope Garcia was part woman, part miracle worker and currently, his best hope for continued survival. And as each ring sounded in his ear, he waited impatiently for her to answer the phone.

Releasing a relieved breath as he heard her terse salutation of, "Speak, mortal," echo across the phone lines, Rossi took another careful step backward. "Garcia?" he whispered into the phone.

"Agent Rossi," Garcia answered evenly, just the slightest trace of amusement in her modulated voice. "I wondered if I'd be hearing from you this fine evening, sir. Have you made it homeward bound yet?" she asked ever so sweetly.

Yep, Penelope definitely knew something, Dave silently confirmed to himself, his heart dropping another inch. "I have," Dave acknowledged hesitantly, wincing as he heard a crash filter through the closed door ahead of him. "And I'm a little nervous over here," he said softly. "Wanna help me out?"

"Now, however could little me help out the big badass, larger than life, David Rossi?" Garcia asked, her tone outright mocking him.

"Kitten," Dave soothed, closing his eyes for a moment as he strengthened his internal fortitude. "Do me a favor and tell me what I did, okay? Spot me this one simple favor and the computer doodad of your choice is yours for the taking," he begged, grimacing as another clamor sounded inside his home. "I'm not even in the door and JJ appears to have lost her mind. She's got that music of hers blaring and I'm hearing definitive sounds of breaking glass," he whispered frantically.

"Oh, by all means, go inside and lead with the fact that you think she's lost her mind," Garcia suggested with a giggle. "She's six months pregnant, Agent Rossi. Not insane. Say it with me. She's. Not. Crazy. And bribery isn't pretty on you," she admonished.

"She's doing a pretty good imitation of it," Dave yelped as an irate curse that would make the most seasoned soldier blush rent the air and, if he wasn't mistaken, scattering the birds from the trees. "Just tell me what the hell I did this time, Kitten. Please," he pleaded, prepared to offer her a human sacrifice if that's what it required to obtain answers. Although, he had a feeling that it was his life that she would demand for the payment.

Sighing heavily, Garcia rolled her eyes. "Tell me, Agent Astute, did the word "hormonal" pass those Italian lips today?" she asked curiously.

"Hell, no!" Dave blurted immediately. "I value my life, Garcia. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to….," he continued, suddenly faltering as his words faded into nothingness. "Ah, shit!" he bit out as his mind flashed back to a certain conversation that he'd had in the break room with Derek and Reid earlier in the day.

"There it is," Garcia sang, propping her chin in her hand as she continued listening to the fluent curses of a man that had abruptly recognized his own downfall. "I knew you'd get there."

"I cannot be held responsible for that, Garcia," Dave blustered, resting his free hand against the railing of the porch. "I was defending her, damn it!"

"By using her hormonal fluctuations as an explanation," Garcia agreed amiably, her tone bordering on a mixture of laughter and condemnation. "Unfortunately you violated about nine different female codes in doing that."

"Christ," Dave groaned, lifting a hand and shoving it through his hair. "What do I do now, Kitten?"

"Man up, big guy. And face the music," she offered, smiling as she disconnected from the line, leaving him to determine his own obviously convoluted path. One thing was certain…she couldn't wait to hear the outcome of this story in the morning.

**XXX**

Staring at the dead phone in his hand, Dave gulped.

He was so royally screwed. Beyond screwed, actually. He was fucked. And not the good kind, either. Nope he was taking it right up the…

"I know you're out there, Rossi," JJ's strident voice suddenly cut through the chaos his mind had become.

Oh shit, he thought darkly, glancing around frantically, searching for any help to aid him out of what was a steadily worsening situation. But nope, he was all alone in his misery…and he had a feeling that it was only going to move from misery to downright terror in the coming minutes.

Think fast, he told himself sternly, reaching for the door knob. You've faced down serial killers and lived to tell the tale, Rossi. You can handle one pregnant woman, can't you?

Famous last words, his uncooperative mind shot back with what sounded like an evil laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Fellow authors, stay tuned for our upcoming THEME SONG CHALLENGE ON "CHIT CHAT ON AUTHOR'S CORNER"! It'll be up soon!**

**Arsenic & Old Lace**

**Chapter Two**

"Hey, Bella," he called back as he stepped into the back foyer, knowing that ignoring his wife was punishable by a fate worse than the one he was already facing. And at this point, he was not in any position to compound his already considerable sins. The aroma of roasted tomatoes wafted through the air, and he sniffed appreciatively as he entered their bright and cheerful kitchen. "Something smells good," he offered as he met his wife's flashing eyes, hoping to find a small wiggle hole back into her good graces.

"Uh huh," JJ snorted as she reached for a wooden spoon in the stoneware crock. Moving toward the stove, she studiously ignored his presence as she reached over and clicked the nearby remote, sending the volume of the music into the stratosphere.

Rossi winced at the increased decibels, glancing around rapidly for any hope of silence. But there was none. His eyes caught an unexpected sight, and he cleared his throat as he stared at the unexpected yellow and black box sitting not-so innocently on the open shelf next to their stove. "Um...Bella?" he called out, wondering if she could even hear him over the blaring chorus that was now threatening to bust his eardrums. "Is there a reason why there's a box of rat poison next to the oregano?"

Glancing over her shoulder as she continued to stir the pot of fragrant marinara sauce, JJ shrugged as she stated, her tone neutral, "I hear it makes an excellent additive. In some cultures, it's considered a delicacy, you know."

"Which cultures would that be exactly? The ancient Byzantine era? I think those people are dead now, JJ!"

"Is that fear that I detect in your tone, Dave?" JJ asked, dropping the spatula to the stovetop and snatching the stereo remote from the counter. Pointing it, she jabbed her finger against the button, turning the volume down.

"Of course not," Dave lied baldly, mentally offering up a prayer of thanks for his continued hearing. "You'd never hurt me, Bella," he offered gamely, praying he was right.

"Now, you're placating me," JJ said, smiling stiffly, her eyes narrowing as she tapped her spoon against the metal pot. "Probably not your best move," she warned, turning back to the stove.

Taking a moment to catch his breath while her back was turned, Dave scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering how and the hell to even begin to dig his way out of the hole into which he appeared to be sinking rapidly. Hell, he was tempted to serve her up Derek and Reid's head on a pike. This was all their damned fault anyway. Evidently, JJ had torn chunks from both their hides this morning over incomplete paperwork and they'd cornered him over his morning coffee, demanding he do something about his less than cooperative, understanding wife.

Like he'd ever been able to control anything JJ decided to do, he mentally snorted.

"Are you going to say anything at all?" JJ asked sharply, snapping him out of his fantasy of maiming two of their best friends.

"I hear you're pretty angry with me," Dave stated conversationally, dropping one hand into his jeans pocket as he watched her grab a knife from the carving board and attack an onion like a deranged serial killer.

"What makes you say that?" JJ retorted, slamming down the knife with relish as she eyeballed him again.

"Mostly, Garcia," Dave said, shrugging one shoulder. "But your music," he said, lifting his chin toward the CD player behind her, "that was my first clue."

"It makes me feel better," JJ snapped, glaring accusingly at him as she scraped the minced onion into a nearby bowl. "Helps keep the hormones in check," she drawled, leaning forward over the counter to level him with a deadly stare.

"You took my statement this morning out of context, babe," Dave replied carefully. "I was…"

"You," she said, cutting him off as she sent the knife in her hand into the sink with a vicious flick of her wrist, "were making excuses for my very righteous anger by blaming my hormones, Rossi! I had a right to be pissed. I spent the better part of a day training those two morons in how to fill out those new reports! You and the rest of the team would be wise to leave my hormones out of any conversation you wish to have about me in the future! Every action has a reaction, Dave. Isn't that what you always tell me?"

"That reaction includes murder?" Dave asked evenly, eyeing the box on the counter with a raised brow.

"You're the one that taught me I ought to be prepared for anything if I married you," JJ smiled sweetly, wiping her hands on a nearby towel, slinging it in his direction. "The only thing I haven't figured out is where to dispose of your carcass."

"Well, it's heartening to know that you haven't quite covered all the bases yet," Dave replied dryly, slowly moving toward her as he dodged the flying linen.

"I'm warning you, Rossi," JJ seethed, her lips pressing tightly together. "Do not patronize me. I've had it with all of you. A woman can simply be pissed off and pregnant. And it can happen without having a damn thing to do with her hormones. If I were you, I'd carry that message back to all your little friends before I choose to whip up a batch of very special brownies."

"And you think it's normal to threaten mass murder in order to get your point across, huh?" Dave questioned, smoothly grabbing the still sealed box of arsenic from the counter.

"My goal is to make an everlasting impression on each one of you," JJ informed him with a smile as she cocked her head. "And don't think I didn't buy more than one box of that. My momma didn't raise fool, and I learned quite a few tricks from watching her deal with my daddy. I don't mind resorting to drastic measures if the situation warrants the usage of them."

"And today...," Dave began, fighting a rising grin as he dropped the box into the nearby trashcan.

"Definitely meets those requirements," JJ nodded decisively, resting her free hand on her rounded stomach.

"I swear," Dave vowed solemnly, holding up a hand as he swore, "I will spread your message far and wide, Bella."

"See that you do," JJ agreed with an arched brow. "Now, go set the table," she said, nodding toward the lace covered oak table in the dining room. "Morgan and Reid are coming for dinner," she informed him with an evil twinkle in her eyes. "And I made them a very special dessert," she told him, pulling a creamy chocolate custard from the depths of their refrigerator.

"You're rewarding them," Dave gaped, his jaw dropping open as he dropped a plate to the table with a clatter.

"Oh, not quite," JJ declared airily, gesturing toward the kitchen counter.

Turning Dave spied the empty laxative box on the counter.

"Do get rid of the evidence, will you?" JJ requested blandly as she dropped the crystal bowl on the counter.

And with one last admiring glance, Dave did as she bid him. After all, who was he to argue with a diabolical, pregnant genius? Being her evil sidekick was a step up from being the recipient of her rage.

And he could live with that.

He only hoped Morgan and Reid could do the same.

_**Finis**_


End file.
